The Artist and the Blind Girl
by WeepingCadaver
Summary: "Tell me, what does a blind man dream about?" Even when someone is blind, they still hold the ability to dream, though what is it that they dream about? When Barnabas Drew meets a blind girl who asks him this very question, he struggles to find the answer.


**A/N: Well, I know I haven't really posted anything in a LONG time, but that should be able to change. I am getting back into the habit of writing fanfictions, so hopefully there'll be more updates on this and my other chapter story, and more one-shots and plenty of newer stories. Anyway, I hope those who read this enjoy it, and I really appreciate when people leave reviews, so I can at least see the opinions of those who read my work. Thanks a bunch in advance to those that do just that.**

**Summary: _"Tell me, what does a blind man dream about?"_ Even when someone is blind, they still hold the ability to dream, though what is it that they dream about? When Barnabas Drew meets a blind girl who asks him this very question, he struggles to find the answer.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the _Dark is Rising Sequence_ characters, only the ones that I created, and the story.**

The Artist and the Blind Girl  
Chapter One

_She could hear him yelling someone's name; she could hear his voice wavering in and out of her conscious mind. Her thoughts were few and far between, but the ones that were there were so muddled she didn't even know what they were saying. She could feel her body shaking and she could even hear her teeth chattering. The thing that scared her was that she couldn't hear her heart beating. For the first time, one clear thought ran through her head; she thought of how in so many stories that when someone was dying_

_(I'm dying)_

_they would note how loud their heartbeat was, how everything else was just muffled white noise and how their heartbeat filled their head. That wasn't right for her, every other sound was crystal clear, and everything was as fresh and sharp sounding as the first cries of a newborn child. Her body was sore and cold, though she felt numb, almost as if she was submerged in icy water for longer than was healthy. To her, everything was loud; though her heartbeat was a tiny, muffled beating sound so quiet she could hardly hear it. It scared her._

_She felt something grab her hand. She would have pulled away, but she didn't have the strength to do so; she heard someone whispering something to her, and she thought she knew who it was. She could hear tears in the person's voice; she could hear how scared they were. She wanted to say something, to tell them that it was okay and that she was fine._

_She felt the person squeeze her hand before she felt the pressure disappear, though that could have been because she could no longer feel her hands. Time passed and she continued to hear the soft murmur of her heart; she continued to hear the conversations of others, of the people who were obviously around her. At times she felt some heat flare into her body, feeling almost like it was scorching her, at other times she felt a gentler warmth, the kind you would feel from the sun on a nice summer afternoon. All the while the conversations never stopped. Sometimes she would hear her name being said by unfamiliar voices, at other times she could hardly understand what any of the voices were saying._

_Every time she was warmed up and she started to get feeling back into her body, subtle pains would strike her. Ever since she first started going numb, she had been floating in and out of consciousness, though this time she couldn't help but succumb to the abyss as it beckoned._

_The last thing she heard was him muttering her name._

X

"Where do you want me to put these books?"

"I don't know! Put them where you think they should go."

"Right, because I know where everything should go. Just you wait; you'll end up with toothpaste in your shoes if you're not careful."

Musical laughter filled the small dorm room. There was the slight creaking of a cardboard box being opened and the sound of rustling paper. A young girl and a boy were sitting on the floor, cross-legged; the boy was unpacking the boxes that sat around them on the floor.

"You would never do that to your poor, defenceless little sister, would you?" She asked, smiling without moving in anyway.

The boy laughed and stood up, taking an armful of books over to the shelf that stood in between the two beds in the room. "I will you know," he said. "I shall fill them with toothpaste, just for you."

The girl crossed her arms and turned towards her brother. "Humph. Can you pass me one of those books, please Mordred?" She asked, holding one of her hands out in front of her.

"Huh?" Mordred said, turning around to face his sister with a book in his hand. "Oh, which one do you want, Musket dearest?" He asked with a smile.

"Ha ha," Musket muttered sarcastically. "Just pass me a book; I don't mind."

Mordred shrugged and walked back over to where Musket sat and put the book into her outstretched hands.

Musket smiled and took the book from him. "You know," she said, waving the book in front of her. "That bruise on your head isn't very attractive."

Mordred raised his eyebrows. "I don't have a bruise on my head." Musket smirked and turned the book over in her hands and Mordred's eyes widened in realisation. "You wouldn't! You can't even see me!"

"Oh, you know that I am good at telling where people are, for a blind person; and I haven't _always_ been blind." Musket said, lifting the book and turning in the direction that she thought her brother was standing in.

Musket lifted her hand and threw the book as best as she could towards her brother. Mordred ducked as the book went sailing past, though it still managed to graze the side of his face. Musket frowned when she didn't hear what she wanted to; she didn't hear the satisfying 'thunk' that should have been made when the book hit her brother's head, she didn't get to hear him swear because of the bruise he rightly deserved. Instead she heard him start to laugh.

"Ha! You'll have to do better than that!" Mordred stood next to her and held his hands out to the pouting girl. "Come on," he said, still smiling. "Let's go and take you to your first class."

X

Barney sighed; his first class of the week and it was History. It was not that he didn't like History; it was just that he didn't find what they were studying to be all that interesting, he was really quite good with History, he just didn't particularly _like _learning about the people in the twenties and thirties. _Well, with all the commotion what with the new student, at least one lesson will be interesting._ He thought, turning to the front of the classroom and watching as the teacher walked in, being followed by a young boy and girl.

Mordred followed the teacher into the classroom. Musket was holding onto the back of his shirt for dear life. "Don't worry," he whispered to her. "You shall be fine."

"I know." She whispered back, her hands briefly tightening on his shirt before they loosened.

The teacher stood out the front, beside his desk and rapped a ruler on it, getting the attention of the whole class; Musket almost flinched when he started to talk in his loud 'you will listen to me and only me' voice. "Okay everyone; this is Musket and her brother. She will be starting her day in this class." He talked in short and direct sentences, Musket noticed and made a note to stay on his good side.

Musket's hands tightened once again onto Mordred's shirt as the people in the classroom began to talk. The teacher hit the ruler on the desk again and called for silence; he motioned to the classroom and said for her to take a seat. Mordred nodded and started to lead his sister to a spare seat up the back of the room, hoping that she wouldn't pay attention to what anyone was or was going to say. Once they reached the back of the classroom, her hands gripped Mordred's shirt slightly before they dropped from it completely and rested on the desk.

As Musket moved her hands along the desk and made her way to sit down, Mordred noticed that her hands were shaking. "Don't worry," Mordred said, putting his hand on her shoulder and helping her to sit down. "Just ignore them." Mordred straightened up and walked back to the front of the classroom, looking back over his shoulder at her. He shook his head and left the room, trying to forget that the other students were all staring at Musket the whole time, some were even whispering.

Barney quirked his head to the side and half-turned in his seat to look back at the girl; to him, the whispering and the growling voice of his teacher were just background noise. He stared intently at her, wondering what her face was like under the dark sunglasses. He could guess that she was blind; it wasn't that hard to tell, he was just wondering why she was sent to Swallow Hill Academy since it was really only for students who excelled in a particular area but also got above average grades in most other things. Barney excelled in Art, his older sister, Jane excelled in Academics and his older brother, Simon excelled in Sports. What could this blind girl do so well that she got into the boarding school?

Musket was nervous, she had only been in the class for a couple of minutes and people were already talking. It was not that she was embarrassed about being blind; she just did not like the way people always reacted to the fact. So there she sat, wearing the sunglasses that people always seemed to find so unnerving, waiting for her first class to start and for the feeling of eyes watching her to go away. She was _trying_ to ignore the talking.

"Is that girl—Musket isn't it? Is she blind?"

"She has to be!"

"How did she get into this school? What did she do for the entrance exam?"

"Shh! Or she'll hear you!"

Musket clenched her fists on her knees under the table. It was always the same, they would whisper and gossip about her and then they would avoid her like she had the plague; it was not like she knew for sure that they were avoiding her, but when her brother spoke to her, sometimes she could hear him straining to keep it even. Mordred was only seventeen, but he already took on most of the responsibility in the family; he was the one who would always look after Musket and he was the one who took their father's place after he died.

"Barnabas! Turn around!"

Barney started and turned around to face the front of the classroom; the teacher was glaring at him.

"Sorry, sir."

_Barnabas,_ Musket thought, facing down at her desk. _That's a strange name._

X

By the end of Musket's first class she was already ready to go back to her room and stay there. Other students had done what she thought they would do; they had whispered about her as if she was some sort of animal on display, they had joked and snickered when they thought that she wouldn't be able to hear them, they had tapped her on the shoulder or poked her in the back in the hope that she would turn around, thinking that she couldn't do anything because she couldn't see them. There had been some people who tried to stop the others from doing all those things, but it didn't change anything.

The one interesting thing that happened during the lesson was that the boy called Barnabas was caught drawing in his notebook; the teacher had taken it off him but all that managed to do was make Barney fall asleep during the rest of the lesson. The teacher had yelled at Barney for a minute or two, though he would have yelled for longer if the bell that signalled the end of class hadn't have rung.

Musket just sat quietly at her desk as the other students filed past her. As she waited for Mordred to show up and take her to her next class she wondered briefly what it would be; Mordred would not tell her what class she would be having because he wanted it to 'be a surprise'. Musket sighed and smiled, looking up and to where she hoped the doorway was as she heard the familiar footsteps of her brother.

"Hello Musket," he said as he took her hands and helped her up. "How was class?"

Barney was the last one to leave the classroom before Musket. Before he walked through the doorway he looked back over his shoulder at her as she sat at her desk, unseeing as she faced down at her desk. He turned away and left the room, walking down the stone corridor towards his next class; he also passed Musket's brother. As he walked past student after student, his mind slipped back to the blind girl. He felt sorry for her; he had no idea what it would be like to not be able to see, after all, his art depended on his ability to see, so he was only able to be sorry for her.

He didn't like the way that the other people in the class treated her. At least Mr Wells made an effort to be as best as he could to her; he had asked her questions about some things, saying he was trying to see how much she knew so that he knew what work to give her and such-like.

Barney sighed and stopped outside his next classroom. He shook his head and opened the door, stepped inside and took his usual seat near the window. He smiled; this was his favourite class; Art.

Mordred sighed as he and his sister walked down the near empty corridor. Mordred noticed that some people were staring at them as they went past; he didn't care, he was used to it but he knew that Musket still didn't like it. She could _feel_ it when they were staring at her. "Are you okay?" He asked as he felt Musket's grip tighten on the back of his shirt.

"I don't want to go to class."

"Musket…"

"Please, just this once let me go back to my room. Just for this class."

Mordred sighed and turned, taking Musket's hands from his shirt and holding them. "Musket, you have to go to class, just like everyone else at this school."

Musket looked up at her brother and opened her mouth but closed it when no sound would come out. She shook her head and squeezed Mordred's hands, silently pleading for him to just once let her have one lesson off.

"You have to go, Musket." He said.

"But I don't think I can handle this, Mordred. We've been to so many different schools, but it's always the same." She slipped her hands out of Mordred's and grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt. "It doesn't mater though, does it? You are going to make me go to class anyway, aren't you?"

Mordred shook his head and turned back around. He continued walking to Musket's next class, though he knew how hard it was going to be for her.

When they made it to the classroom the bell signalling the start of that class had only just gone as they stood outside the doorway. "Let's go," Mordred said as he opened the door and led Musket inside.

Musket took a deep breath and followed after him, holding tightly onto his shirt. _Please let this one be better than the last._ As Musket and Mordred entered the classroom all the talking immediately stopped. Musket ignored this and concentrated on the strange smell that was in the room. The room smelt of drying paints and glues, of inks and clay, it smelt of exactly what any art classroom would smell of. Musket inwardly cringed; Art was her worst class and she was always treated the worst in her Art classes.

"You must be Musket," the teacher said. Musket thought she was a nice person by the way she talked; she spoke with a calm voice that seemed to sound as if she was smiling, though right then she sounded nervous. "Why don't you go and take that seat next to Barnabas? It is the only spare seat, seeing as how full the Art classes are at this school."

Mordred nodded and took Musket through the tables to the only spare seat in the classroom. He noticed that all the desks were made to seat two people; he also noticed that at each table there was a boy and a girl. Seeing as the boy—Barnabas? Was sitting by himself there must have been more boys than girls in the class. Until Musket showed up, that is.

Barney looked up from the sketchbook as he noticed the blind girl and her brother walking towards his desk. That was when he remembered that the seat next to him was empty. Really, there was no particular reason as to _why_ he always sat by himself during Art; it was simply that he was too sick to go to class on the day when they were to pick their partners. No one realised that Barney wouldn't have a partner until after they had chosen.

"Hallo," Barney said as Mordred helped Musket to sit down in the seat next to him.

Musket stiffened slightly when she heard Barney speak to her. She was surprised at what he had said; she had expected him to say something mean to her like everyone else had done in all the other schools when she had to sit next to someone. "Hello," She said shyly, nodding slightly as she faced down at the desk in front of her. She recognised Barney from her first class; he had been the one that got in trouble for drawing and falling asleep. He didn't tease Musket, he had defended her once.

_But that doesn't mean anything_.

Mordred stared at Barney for a moment before he looked back down at Musket. "I'll be back at the end of class, okay?" He put his hand on Musket's head as she nodded, and then he left.

Barney faced the front of the classroom as the teacher started to talk. "Okay, today I have planned for the class to do a black and white sketch of their own choice. The only restrictions are that it _must_ be in black and white and that it must be appropriate." A couple of students laughed for a bit, but then the teacher continued, "you have this lesson and half of the next one to finish whatever it is that you choose to do."

After the teacher finished talking the students started to stand and move around the classroom collecting whatever it was that they needed for their sketch. Barney stayed for a moment as he tried to decide what to do; should he ask Musket if she wanted help, or should he just go and get started on his own work? No matter what he was going to do, his mind was made up for him when the teacher stood in front of his desk and asked to talk to Musket alone. He nodded and headed off to get ready for his work.

"Musket, I know this class is going to be hard for you, so I need to ask you whether you want to change from Art to some other subject that might be easier for you." The teacher sat down in Barney's seat, though Musket made a point of not turning in her direction and just faced down as she talked.

"I'm fine with Art," she said quietly. "My mother wants me to do the same classes as everyone else in my grade, so I should keep doing Art."

The teacher sighed and patted one of Musket's hands. "Just tell me if it starts to get too hard or if you can't do the work." Musket heard the chair next to her squeak as it was pushed back from the desk, she then heard the teacher's voice say from in front of her, "at least be glad that you're sitting next to Barnabas; he is the best student I've ever had, and I'm sure he shall be more than willing to help you if you need it."

Musket nodded her head as she heard the teacher's footsteps move off to some other part of the classroom.

"Um, Musket?"

Musket jumped when someone started talking to her. She calmed down again when she realised who it was.

"Sorry," Barney said as he sat back down in his seat. "I was just wondering whether you were going to do this project or not? It's okay if you're not, though I thought that you might like some help if you are."

Musket was speechless. In the countless number of schools and classes that she had been in, the teachers were really the only ones to offer help; even the other students who ever offered were only doing it because the teachers told them to. "No," she shook her head slowly and said in a small voice, "I don't think that I'll be able to. I have never been very good at art." She smiled ruefully.

"Okay," Barney said as he pulled the few pieces of charcoal that he had picked up towards him. "But if you change your mind..."

_He probably heard the teacher talking to me._ Musket thought bitterly. _He's probably just like everyone else I've ever met._

X

For Musket, that Art lesson was one of the best classes she had ever been to with the way that Barney treated her, though it caused her to grow more and more nervous as the minutes flew by. Every now and then Barney would ask her something and she would stutter out an answer; the most awkward time was about half way through the lesson and Barney asked if she found it boring.

"Find what boring?" She stuttered, keeping her head down.

Barney put the piece of charcoal down and wiped his hands on a piece of rag. "You know, just sitting there and not doing anything during class. Don't you have anything to do?"

Musket shook her head. "No, not really, it's not like there's all that much for me to do, anyway." She smiled slightly nervously and turned in her seat to face Barney. "Don't you find it boring when you have nothing to do and must simply sit in one place for a long time?"

Barney nodded, but then clarified so Musket could know of his agreement. "Yes, I guess it would be boring, wouldn't it?" he said.

"Yes," Musket muttered, nodding. "It is boring just sitting here, but it's not like I'm able to do anything about it, really. Can't see after all."

Barney ran a hand through his white-blonde hair. "That doesn't mean you can't do art," he said, shrugging. "You could do abstract stuff, I've seen some pretty cool looking abstract art. And won't your brother help you?"

Shrugging in response, Musket opened her mouth to say something, however she was cut off by the end of class bell sounding. Before she could continue her reply, the teacher spoke;

"All right, that's it for today. Clean up and head on out!"

From beside her, Musket heard Barney moving around and packing up. Fidgeting with her hands, she simply stayed in her seat and waited for all the hustle and bustle to subside and for Mordred to come and take her away back to their dorm room. After a minute or two it seemed that most people had left the classroom.

"Um."

Musket started when she heard Barney speak from the other side of her.

"It was nice to meet you," he said. It was obvious that he was trying to sound as positive as he could. After a pause he continued, his voice getting somewhat quieter as he left the art room. "I shall see you around."

"Of course you will," Musket said, smiling.

It wasn't long before her brother showed up, given away by the familiarity of his footsteps even in such unfamiliar surroundings. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, taking Musket's hand as she stood up from the desk.

"Obviously," she said, gripping the sleeve of Mordred's school jacket in her hand as he led her out of the classroom.

Finis

**A/N: Now I thank those who actually made it to reading this, and I really hope that you leave a comment and tell me how it's going so far; I really like to know what people think of my work, as well as what they think can be done better and whatnot. Also, while I know that this is a fairly short chapter for me (only roughly 4,000 words), they should be getting back to their usual length when I write more.**

**Anyway, thank you very much for reading :D**


End file.
